


This Is How It Happens

by sleepyjean



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern AU, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyjean/pseuds/sleepyjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is mythical. This is a poem, there is no plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is How It Happens

i.

it's a saturday night when you meet him

you are nineteen and fearless

scarlet

gold

ready to fight.

he is

glazed-eyes-whiskey drunk

but smoking himself sober

and you are on fire

for the world.

 _i'm an artist,_ he says

_but my paintings never sell_

and you look at the ink on his hands and you think

that it should be enough for any gallery.

 

when you see him again

he is laughing

with a boy you don't recognize

but there is no light in his eyes

and no ink on his hands

 _call me R,_ he says

like a sigh

(not a whimper)

(not yet)

and you think it sounds right

but you can't make yourself tell him

 

he says, _i think you are apollo_

and he tries to explain

about fire

and gold

and fiercest sunlight

and you nod, because you don't know what else to do.

_so who_

_does that make you?_

and he laughs

_me?_

_i don't_

_believe_

_in gods._

but later on you find it

the paper, his writing

_i believe_

_in you._

ii.

you are twenty one

and still a giant of terrible size

but the world is no longer at your feet

and you know

you are no apollo.

 _orestes then,_ he says

through a haze of blue smoke

which lately has begun to make you see red.

_and you?_

_i'll be pylades,_ he says

_drunk with my devotion to you._

_or maybe just drunk_

you say

and something in the room dies.

 _wait,_ you say

 _i didn't mean that,_ you say

but his smile is gone

and you can't quite see his new tattoo

where it is hidden across his shoulder

but you know

with sick certainty

what it says

and you know

that you are no giant.

 

iii.

you are twenty two

and scarlet still

you will conquer the mountain yet

but it is winter now

in your little apartment.

he is on his back

on the floor

and he is

smoking

smoking

smoking

and you are tired

again

 _i've changed my mind,_ he says

_you are alexander_

_you will have the whole word to stand on_

but he doesn't smile.

_and you?_

_i will never be hephaestion,_ he says

with a cynical twist to the word

_but perhaps i am persia_

_you have torn me apart_

and you've never been good

at reacting to things

little mortal

little man

son of the sun god

but never one yourself

and now

your apartment

is empty.

 

iv.

here is the thing about equality

everyone is equal

at 3 am

hands shaking

breathing uncertain

with sweat-damp sheets

pinning you to your bed with fear

 

and you thought

that patroclus would never leave achilles

but you've never

been good with

mythology

 

v.

by the time you find him again

it is spring

and you are twenty three

so far from the little apollo

who met an artist on a saturday night

he is

sober, no smoke

just bitter black coffee

and shadows under his eyes

and he smiles

(tries to)

when he sees you

and he says-

no

you get there first

and you say

_you were wrong_

you say

_i was wrong_

you say

_i am harmodius._

_and me?_

_you are aristogeiton_

_and we could change the world_

and he doesn't say anything

but he touches his shoulder

and from the way he looks at you, you know

you are

apollo

orestes

alexander himself

here is your mountain

you have conquered it at last.


End file.
